


Secrets and Lies

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abortion, Angst, Lots of Angst, M/M, Mpreg, pregnant!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 21:02:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has a secret, and it keeps getting harder to hide it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets and Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a prompt from ihatethatiloveyou2 on Tumblr:
> 
> "Can you please do a Larry prompt where Harry is pregnant with Louis' child? And can you please make it long and detailed if you can?"
> 
> WARNING: This is not cute and fluffy. If you want sweet mpreg loveliness, go elsewhere :/

You know it’s going to be crap day when it starts off with a fountain of bile spewing from your mouth at 6 a.m.

Harry’s already nauseous stomach drops as its contents are splattered into the toilet bowl, knowing that this action of throwing up symbolises everything he’s been trying to avoid thinking about for the past few weeks. For this isn’t any usual result of a booze-fuelled night out or a common tummy bug - it’s the third day in a row that he’s been sick purely in the morning then has felt fine for the rest of the day. Which might just mean…

“That’s it love, just get it all out of you!” Louis rests his hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders in an attempt to be comforting but it inadvertently causes Harry to shudder. Normally he loves his partner’s touch and craves for it whenever they’re apart however as his brain is starting to turn towards thoughts of possible reasons for his ‘morning sickness’ it’s too much of a frantic shock for him to avoid reacting.

In an attempt to disguise the shivers which are running down his spine, he heaves once again into the toilet which causes nothing more to come down his throat but seems to throw his partner off the scent because Louis rubs him a few more times on the back before going to fetch him a bottle of water to take the taste away.

“You must have eaten something bad at the restaurant, honey,” Louis continues as he leads Harry out of the bathroom like he’s an invalid. “I’ll tell management you’re having the day off and I don’t care what they say – I don’t want you getting more ill.”

As Harry lies there in bed, where he’s been herded by his notoriously overprotective boyfriend, he wonders whether he was right to be wondering about whether he could be - he shudders once again as the word enters his mind - pregnant. For the past weeks he’s been feeling rather peculiar along with displaying a few basic symptoms which he’s heard are related to this condition (not being an expert in the area), and now this throwing up in the morning has compounded his farfetched sounding theory in his head. He’s never considered the idea of a male pregnancy before, but then again he never considered the idea of being in a world-famous boyband before and that’s happened to him. It feels strange and almost repulsive to consider the idea that at this moment he could possibly have another human life inside him; his knee jerk reaction is to avoid thinking about it at all, and instead move onto other, less complicated thoughts.

Knowing that’s not going to make his situation go away, however, he decides he has to do something – anything – about it. The band is on tour at the moment and he’s certain that now Louis’ paternal gene has kicked in he won’t let Harry out of bed for the rest of the day, but he’s determined that at the first opportunity he will buy himself a test of some sort, just to prove that he’s not… pregnant. Because he can’t be. Not now.

***

Harry doesn’t know his way around whatever city it is they’re in at the moment but it’s hard to miss the giant supermarket not far away from the hotel they’re staying at. Wearing a makeshift disguise of large sunglasses and a beanie of Louis’ (they’ve always shared clothes so technically it’s his hat too, but he chooses to ignore this piece of information) to avoid being recognised, he makes his way into the store and picks up a basket.

Clearly it will look odd if all he buys is a… test, so first of all he heads to the fruit and vegetable section with the excuse for himself that the band want to try and stave off scurvy while on tour. When his basket is half full of apples, bread and beer, which he then has to put back as he remembers that none of them are old enough to drink here in America, Harry finally attempts to walk over subtly towards the pharmaceutical area of the shop. No one notices him. It’s only after he’s started down the health aisle that he realises he has no idea what he’s looking for. He might as well be trying to buy tampons for all he knows about where they’re located within the shop!

There’s absolutely no way in hell he can ask a shop assistant for help so instead he has to scour the shelves until he comes across a whole row of items related to - he hates to say the word even in his head – pregnancy. Grabbing the first one with the word ‘test’ displayed prominently on the packaging he quickly dashes away from the incriminating section of the store and joins a short queue for one of the cashiers, internally swearing at the supermarket’s lack of self-service machines.

He can almost feel the presence of the test on the conveyor belt in amongst his groceries but tries as hard as he can to avoid looking guilty - the last thing he wants is to be suspected of shoplifting now. Thankfully for him the young shop assistant doesn’t even seem bothered when she scans the item and places it in a plastic bag.

“Nineteen dollars, fifty-six,” she tells Harry in a strangely chirpy voice for someone working at a supermarket at 8 in the morning, prompting him to take out his wallet in order to hand over a 20 dollar note. Tucked inside the small leather purse is a photograph of him and Louis, taken just a few days ago in the tour bus with a disposable camera that Zayn had bought in the hope of making a scrapbook but which the other boys had promptly hijacked. The two of them are lying down on their shared bed, arms around each other in the way that’s become so familiar and comforting to them, and simply the sight of the normality that was there relationship merely days ago is enough to make him choke up a little when he considers the fact that the results of the little piece of plastic in his carrier bag could have the power break all they have apart completely.

“Um, sir?” Shaking his head to clear it of all the complex and irrational thoughts within, he hands over his money which the shop assistant seems to take an age collecting the change for and handing him his receipt. As he’s about to make a quick exit from the supermarket she says awfully casually to him, “And good luck with the pregnancy test!”

Harry’s mini-heart attack lasts a minute or so before he runs out of the store as fast as his legs will carry him. “Have a great day, sir!” she calls after him, sounding concerned. Harry just hopes to God that the results of the test will let him do so.

*** 

All the instructions on the packaging that comes with the test are specific to females, meaning Harry’s not sure whether to be relieved that this probably makes the chances of him being pregnant less likely or annoyed that they’re not more gender neutral. However it’s still an easy enough procedure to go through: piss on the piece of plastic, then wait to see if a blue line shows up. Just like in the movies.

He’s waited until all the other boys are out of the hotel, having told them he’s still ill by way of an excuse, and now he’s positioned over the toilet, ready to find out what’s really happening inside his body. When he’s done the instructions say it should take a minute for the verdict to show up, but he gives it two just in case – he also needs to give his brain a chance to wrap itself around the fact that he’s _actually taking a pregnancy test_.

He doesn’t want to look down at the stick in his hand, doesn’t want to know what the results are. It doesn’t feel right that his future will be decided in one look and that after that single glance everything could change forever. But what would be the point of not looking? If he throws away the test and tries to forget the whole thing again then he’ll never know, and the thought will be constantly playing in the back of his mind. Clearly he’s not pregnant because that would be ridiculous, right? This is all just to set his mind at rest and to reassure himself that there’s nothing to worry about when he clearly worries too much about stupid, impossible things that are never going to affect him.

He looks down. There’s a small blue line on the stick.

One thought of the hundreds that flash through Harry’s mind at that moment sticks there: this cannot be happening. There is no way this can be happening to him!

Louis wants kids. Harry knows that better than anyone, having listened to his boyfriend tell him a hundred times how they’re going to get married one day and have numerous children – the exact amount changes every time Louis recounts his fantasies. And Harry wants kids too, sort of. Just not here, not now. Not while they’re still famous and living the celebrity lifestyle with cameras in their face every single minute. Not when they haven’t even come out to the public yet. Especially not when they’re on tour. So this must be some sort of prank, set up by Zayn probably for a laugh, or a mistake from a faulty pregnancy test, or a terrible dream from which he will awaken any moment to find himself in bed in some hotel room in the middle of God-knows-where with Louis next to him.

But deep down he knows that it’s none of these things and that he is, in fact, pregnant. A thought which is so bloody terrifying that it makes his shoulders begin to shake with fear which then turns to wracking sobs as he realises how majorly fucked up his life has become in the space of a few seconds. Salty tears stream down his suddenly deathly pale face while he screams silently into the bathroom: _‘Why? Why me? Why now? Why?’_

He’s having a breakdown but there’s no one there to help him, to hold him above the waves of despair that are crashing down upon him like Louis has done on so many occasions when Harry ‘s been going through one of his depressive phases where sometimes he just wants to end it all. Similar ideas are churning through his rain now and it’s all he can do to avoid reaching for the razors that once offered so much comfort to him before he found the man who can do the same thing with a kiss.

Harry needs a way of escaping this nightmare, so that he can get over the echoes of despair and desolation within him, and second only to self harm is his only sensible(ish) option – to forget it all. No, it won’t end his problem but it will at least allow him the time to cope with the sudden upheaval in his life for a week or so. No longer than that, though. Just a short amount of time so he can work out exactly what the fuck he’s going to do about it all now, and then he will face up to it like he knows he has to. A week, that’s all, to get his head sorted out.

**One month later**

Harry has always been a procrastinator at heart but even he knows this is taking it to another level. Almost five weeks since a small blue line confirmed his worst fears and he still hasn’t even told anyone about his situation, let alone done anything about it.

He’s not quite sure why he’s finding it so difficult to deal with the problem: he still knows for certain that he doesn’t want the child, after all, and rather than developing any sort of bond with the unborn foetus it’s simply proving to be a nuisance to him. But even so he can’t bring himself to go to a clinic or just do some research into his dilemma, largely because that would involve facing the fact that he is pregnant. He still can hardly bring himself to say or think the dreaded word. It’s too big, too scary, too definite. Everything Harry doesn’t want in his life right now when things had been going so well.

The band are no longer on tour but the constant pressures of celebrity life are getting to him more than usual due to his fear that someone will find out about his condition. Having had no idea about when the different signs of pregnancy occur, it was a shock to him when he looked down in the shower one morning and realised he could no longer see his genitals as a result of his gradually swelling stomach. Since then he’s been fighting all his urges to walk around with no clothes on in favour of being fully covered up at all times and has actually tried to avoid Louis – a difficult job when they live together – who knows Harry too well to not be able to notice his new physique if he lets himself get intimate with his boyfriend.

So he’s had to give up everything he loves in life for the sake of something he doesn’t even want or care for, and that makes him angry. But he has no outlet for it whatsoever.

It’s festival season now and he’s disconcerted by the amount of attention (both from the media and the general public) that this means the band are receiving. Every gig and performance makes him more self conscious of his growing stomach, as well as the lights and loud noises making him frankly nauseous whenever he goes on stage. Interspersed between their numerous performances are the usual bits of promo: interviews, TV appearances, and the like.

One day they have a photoshoot for Heat magazine which pisses Harry off right from the start because in the small interview beforehand they insist on asking Louis about his ‘girlfriend’. He doesn’t consider himself to be the easily jealous type and he actually gets on really well with Eleanor but there’s something about the way that his boyfriend has to act when he’s pretending to be loved up with her that makes him worry at times. His current condition isn’t helping the situation one bit. But it’s after the questions have all been answered and they make their way to the studio for their photoshoot that the problems really start.

They’re greeted by the usual young, trendy photographer who talks them through the concept.

“Right when we announced we were doing a photoshoot with you guys we got loads of comments on our website asking for you to do it with as few clothes on as possible, so it’s going to be a shirtless shoot today!”

The other boys make semi-ironic noises of approval whereas Harry feels his heart begin to beat faster when he realises what this means for him.

“Um, what?” he asks in his usual eloquent manner. The photographer turns to him with a smile, presumably thinking that Harry is joking around, but his anxiety levels have hit peak heights as he realises this shoot might just reveal everything he’s been keeping secret to the other boys and - even worse in his opinion - the media themselves, who will have the whole event on film.

“I, er, don’t want to do that,” he tells the room quietly and then repeats his statement again when it’s clear that no one has heard him. The other boys would normally laugh in this situation but they know him so well they can tell he’s being deadly serious. Liam for one is confused.

“But why, Harry?” You love stripping off!”

Harry’s never been good at improvisation so it’s embarrassing but not entirely surprising when the first words he can think of in reply are:

“I just don’t want to, OK?”

Cringing inwardly at how much he sounds like a spoilt diva at this moment, Harry figures that this might be the only way to maintain his secrecy, even if it puts him in a less than flattering light.

“I’m not doing it and that’s final!” he huffs, storming out of the studio and towards the exit doors. He knows that although he sounds like a complete tool there’s no way management can force him to do the shoot if he refuses. After all, he and Louis have some very interesting photos of themselves which they could easily leak onto the internet.

***

“What was that all about?” asks Louis as he straps himself into his seat in the back of the car half an hour later and glares pointedly at Harry.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he remarks sullenly in the hope that his boyfriend will drop the subject. Because he doesn’t want to talk about this. Ever.

However his feigned ignorance simply serves to aggravate Louis and he snaps back at him, “Oh don’t give me that, Haz! What you did in there was totally unprofessional and the magazine could sue us now!”

Harry desperately want to beg for his Louis’ forgiveness – he can never stand it when Louis’ angry at him – but that would mean giving reasons for his actions, which he can’t say. So instead he mutters something about it being a shit concept for a photoshoot anyway. Louis is not pleased.

“I don’t know why you’re being so bitchy about this, Harry. All you needed to do was take your shirt off and you just had to make a big deal out of it! I mean, what’s the problem? You love being naked a little too much in my experience!”

“Oh shut up, Louis, can you stop whinging for once?” He regrets the words the moment he speaks them and actually clamps a hand to his mouth to stop yet more hurtful comments spilling out. What on earth possessed him to say that?

He knows it’s probably a result of the stress of the pregnancy along with his constant fear of being found out by the rest of the band, especially his boyfriend, but there’s obviously no way he can tell this to Louis, so instead he has to resort to petty arguments in order to release his pent up anger and frustration. Just another example of how fucked up his life is at the moment.

“I’m the one who’s whinging?” Louis’ voice has risen an octave and he’s clearly about to launch a torrent of verbal abuse at Harry in reply, but before he has time Zayn has a clamped a hand over each of the boys’ mouths to make them shut up.

“No arguing in the car,” he reminds them of the rule they decided upon ages ago when they first set out touring. “Save it until we get home.”

“Or not at all,” adds the ever sensible Liam in an attempt to end the argument, however it’s clear from Louis’ scowl that it’s far from over.

When they arrive home Louis attempts to restart their quarrel, evidently hoping to find out the true reason for Harry’s uncharacteristic behaviour, but his boyfriend refuses to join in and instead looks on blankly before excusing himself to go to bed where he cries himself to sleep as the shock of the day’s events finally starts to sink in to his weary mind and body.

***

Harry spends most of the next day worrying about his argument with Louis. They were in separate rooms for the whole night, which is uncommon for them what with Harry’s sexually voracious attitude, and today his boyfriend is determined to ignore him as they travel to a festival somewhere down south. This makes him even more upset than he was before because he can’t escape the fact that it’s all his fault: if only he hadn’t started the argument, if only he could have taken his shirt off, if only he hadn’t got pregnant…

When they arrive at the festival these thoughts have been circling around Harry’s head for hours and he’s in a dreadfully bad mood. As the crew and his fellow band members hurry around getting everything ready he sits backstage with his iPod in, trying to calm the anger inside him and numb the fear which still hasn’t escaped him since his scare at the photoshoot the day before. Normally he’d be engaging with the others before a performance, but since Louis’ been avoiding him all day and Zayn, Niall and Liam are likely to ask awkward questions, he decides to remain where he is, in his little bubble of despair.

Finally it’s time for them to walk on stage, where they’re greeted by hundreds of screaming fans. For the first few songs, Harry feels fine – he’s a little light headed but that’s something he’s grown used to for the past 6 weeks or so. It’s when they get to ‘Moments’ that he knows something is going wrong. His solo is coming up but time seems to be going in slow motion almost as though he’s high, except unlike the relaxed feeling that drugs give him he can now feel waves of nausea crashing through his body. Opening his mouth to sing, he knows he will be physically sick if any words come out so instead he stumbles over to the side of the stage where he starts to collapse…

***

“Harry? Harry! Oh my God, are you OK?”

His eyes flicker open to see Liam right above him wearing his most concerned face.

“Oh thank God, he’s awake!” Liam calls this over his shoulder in the unnecessarily loud tones of someone who is panicking to the other boys who are crowding behind him to see what’s happened. Louis breather a clear sigh of relief but then seems to remember he’s supposed to be mad at Harry and quickly turns away with a forced look of indifference. Zayn and Niall both ask ho, if he’s alright almost simultaneously to which he nods, however this small action makes him nearly throw up.

“Don’t be silly,” says Liam as he screws his ‘Daddy Direction’ head onto his shoulders and tries to figure out a solution to their predicament. Meanwhile the crowd outside are screaming for the band to come back on stage. “You can’t carry on performing like this! Tell you what…” He glances over at Louis but has clearly picked up on the couple’s argument so doesn’t force them to go home together. “I’m gonna take Harry back to the hotel and you guys can either try and keep the show going or call an end to it - you choose. The fans will understand if they know he’s ill.”

Small noises of protest had escaped from the others’ mouths at his suggestion at first however they know better than to question a plan of Liam’s so now just nod in understanding. Harry feels himself being gently lifted from the floor - by one of the backstage staff or Liam himself he’s not sure - but he has to focus all his concentration on trying not to vomit everywhere.

***

They arrive at the hotel they’re staying at just for the night and by this point Harry is feeling in enough control over his own stomach to know that it’s only Liam who’s somehow managing to support his whole weight. “Sofa or bed?” Liam asks when they walk through the door and he mutters,

“Sofa,” in his ear. His friend proceeds to carry him gently over to the couch and place him down carefully. He feels far more relaxed now but this changes instantly when Liam starts to talk again.

“Right, Harry, we need to talk.”

Looking up from his position on the couch, fear rising within him once again, Harry immediately tries to think of a way to escape confrontation.

“I-I’m fine Li - I just need some rest, I think, that’s all.” But Liam shakes his head knowingly before sitting down beside Harry’s feet and looking deep into his green eyes with the eternal patience that he always seems to save just for the other members of the and.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it. What’s going on, hey? What’s the matter?”

Harry flinches away when he tries to pat his leg comfortingly but he can already feel the tears in his eyes and the desperation within him to tell someone, anyone, about his predicament is threatening to take over his mind.

“I’m fine!” he chokes out, then suddenly he goes from a sensible young man to a wailing animal in the space of a few seconds as everything he’s been holding back comes flooding out. “No, actually I’m not fine!”

His words become tangled together as they fight to fall out of his mouth.

“I can’t do this anymore, Liam; I’m scared and confused and I don’t know what to do and – and I didn’t want to have to tell you, or Louis, or anyone, but I’m not sure I can manage on my own because, well… I’m pregnant Liam!” The statement lands like an unwanted piece of discarded litter on the floor in front of Liam, who for a moment seems utterly confused.

“You’re _pregnant_? Is that even poss –" then his sensible streak kicks in and he starts to try and work things out as usual. “So I’m the only person you’ve told, right?”

Nodding in reply, Harry opens his mouth to speak but is immediately interrupted by Liam.

“And do you, you know, want to keep the child?”

“It’s not a child!” Harry snaps, recoiling at the word. “It’s just a – a thing inside me, it’s not alive!”

“OK,” responds Liam calmly, “I’ll take that as a no then.”

There’s silence in the room for a minute before he continues.

“Well, I suppose you’re just going to have to have an abortion then, aren’t you? I’ll do some research for you but I know they’re free on the NHS so it’s not like we have to pay for it at least. If I take you to hospital now we can tell everyone it’s because you collapsed and then if you have to go in again we’ll say they’re doing tests or something.”

Harry’s amazed at the speed at which Liam thinks up his plan and he feels himself well up in appreciation for the kindness and understanding he’s being shown.

“Thank you so much, Li,” he manages to choke out but his friend shrugs the gratitude off.

“It’s alright,” Liam tells him, reaching an arm over to stroke his shoulder comfortingly as the tears begin to fall once again. “You’re going to be OK; you always manage to pull through. But, er, do we ever tell Louis about this?”

Harry shakes his head emphatically.

“No.”

And they both know exactly what he means. We never tell anyone. Ever.

***

Three days later Harry comes out of a private clinic (which has a high reputation for maintaining secrecy and anonymity of patients) with Liam, his stomach hurting like hell but a lot less swollen than it was before. It turns out male pregnancies are a much more common occurrence than he realised, and they were quick to offer him an abortion when he went to see them with his friend for the first time. After doing some paperwork he had to go home for a few days to reduce suspicion and get himself an appointment at the specialist clinic, but the actual procedure didn’t take long at all and he’s ready to head back to him and Louis’ flat once again.

This, then, is the end of it all. Now he can just forget about the terrible mistake he made of getting pregnant and move on with his life. Thankfully removing the ‘thing’ - as he’s come to start thinking of it – from within him didn’t involve an actual operation so there are no scars on his body that would serve as permanent reminders. Instead he’s been left with nothing but painful memories which can be easily rubbed away by enough drinking and time spent with Louis, who always manages to make situations better.

***

When Louis arrives back at the house that evening at 11 o’clock he’s already pretty rat-arsed drunk which always makes him more touchy-feely than usual. He throws himself down on the sofa next to Harry, surprising him because although they resolved their feud just days after it started, there’s still been some tension between them ever since.

“Hazza, baby,” he begins in his most drunkenly seductive voice and his boyfriend sighs. He knows what’s coming next and that there’s no way he can agree; the abortion has left him still sore and sex is not an option.

“I’m horny!” Louis continues, unaware of how unwanted his offer is, as he begins to kiss his way up Harry’s arm towards his neck. Harry pulls away sharply, deciding to call an end to the act right now when he still has some willpower left.

“No, Lou,” he tells his partner over his moans at their sudden lack of contact. “Not tonight.”

“But why?” groans Louis, who seems almost distraught at the thought of missing out on having sex. Then a thought comes to him and his body stiffens beside Harry’s as he immediately begins to sober up.

“What is it?” Harry asks, instantly suspicious at his boyfriend’s behaviour.

Taking a rather shaky breath, Louis turns to him and begins to talk slowly and seriously.

“Harry, you haven’t had sex with me for ages, you refuse to take your shirt off, I hear you throwing up in the morning sometimes…” he swallows and Harry knows what’s coming, knows what Louis’ going to say next, but there’s no way he can prevent it. “Are you pregnant?”

For what feels like almost ten minutes, Harry forgets to breathe. He just sits there, staring at his boyfriend and hoping to God that he can think of something good to say in response, something that will change the subject and mean he never has to talk about this again. _React, Harry,_ his brain tells him eventually. _You have to react_.

“Pregnant?” he asks in a voice that is almost a squeak, before coughing and starting again as his brain goes straight to panic stations. “Why would I be, er, pregnant? I mean, that’s impossible, right? I mean, I’m not…”

He’s interrupted by Louis whose drunkenness seems to have almost disappeared along with the previous light hearted atmosphere in the room.

“You have the voice of an angel but you’re a shit actor, Harry. It’s OK,” here his face creases into an attempt of a comforting smile. “I don’t mind that you are. Obviously it’s not the best timing but we can make it work!” Harry feels his heart sink as he realises Louis has jumped to completely the wrong conclusion about the situation and it’s his turn to but in with the truth.

“Louis, I’m not pregnant! At least, not anymore.”

It takes a few seconds for his words to sink into his boyfriend’s head but when they do his reaction is one Harry could never have predicted.

“What the fuck?” Screaming the words into the near-silent flat, Louis stands up from the sofa with a look of disgust and horror on his face. “You had an abortion!” Harry can only nod bemusedly in response - he had no idea that his revelation would prompt this explosion from his partner. “And you didn’t even tell me?”

It’s only now that Harry finds his voice and confronts his boyfriend.

“I didn’t need to tell you! I was the one who was pregnant, and I wanted to get rid of it, so it was my choice. Simple!”

“No, not ‘simple’, Haz, not ‘simple’ at all,” Louis’ voice is dripping with malice and irony that come together in one massive outburst. “I should have had some sort of say in this before you just decided to go and kill our child!”

“Our child? Louis, you had no idea we were even going to have a child until a few minutes ago! And I thought you were pro-choice and all that; you’ve never said you’re against abortion at all. I suppose it’s different because it’s me, is it?”

Louis blinks at him, his eyes now full of more hurt than anger, and when his reply comes it’s more of a whisper than a yell.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Beginning to back away, he grabs his jacket from where it’s been flung over the coffee table and starts pull it on. “I can’t believe you lied to me and kept secrets and had a fucking abortion, all behind my back. And you didn’t even think about how I might feel.”

Then he turns away from Harry and heads purposefully towards the door to the hallway.

“Wait!” Harry calls after him, his anger having now subsided and been replaced by something like grief. “Where are you going?”

“To get pissed,” Louis informs him as he opens the front door and steps through. “I don’t really want to remember you in the morning.”

It’s the most hurtful thing he could have said, and he knows it so leaves in a similarly callous fashion. And now Harry is heartbroken. And hurting. And alone.

Completely alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh the angst! The angst that hurts me because I cannot write it well! Why could my past self not have written fluff instead???  
> Also, the original prompt asked for Louis to be pregnant, but I wrote it all before realising that so it is as it is.


End file.
